An hour had passed.
The storm had faded behind them like a curtain slowly drawing back, unveiling the quieter gray of calm skies beyond. Though clouds still loomed high and mist clung to the sea's edge, the worst of the wind had broken, and the Merry now glided more gently through waters flecked with foam and dim light. The swells were no longer mountainous, just broad and slow, the ship rocking like a cradle under a sky soft with post-tempest drizzle.
A strange peace had settled in—fragile, but welcome.
The crew had fanned out across the deck in the lazy sprawl of people who had nothing left in them to burn for the moment. Saltwater still dripped from the sails and pooled between the deck planks. The occasional creak of wood and slap of rope punctuated the quiet.
Usopp was at the bow, leaning over the railing and pretending to keep watch, though his eyes kept drooping shut. His nose twitched with each snore-sniff as he nodded off into light dozing. Occasionally he'd jolt upright and shout something about sea kings before pretending that nothing had happened.
Sanji sat cross-legged near the galley hatch, a cigarette lazily burning in his fingers as he peeled a rain-wrinkled orange. The scent of citrus was sharp and clean, a strange contrast to the briny damp clinging to everything. His jacket lay beside him, sleeves still dark with water, and though his shoulders were relaxed, one eye flicked now and again to the horizon—just in case.
Zoro was asleep outright—flat on his back on a coil of rope near the mast, arms crossed behind his head, three swords still secured at his hip. His chest rose and fell in deep, steady rhythm, undisturbed even when the ship rocked harder or a gull cried overhead. A half-empty bottle of rum rested by his hand.
Luffy had climbed the figurehead again—somehow finding energy even now—and was perched cross-legged just behind Merry's smiling sheep's head, grinning into the breeze with his hat tilted low. His face was sun-dappled now, the storm's cold long gone from his bones. He looked at peace, but in the way children do before they throw a rock through a window.
Nami sat at the helm, arms resting on the wheel though she wasn't steering much anymore. The sea ahead was tame and wide, and her focus was mostly on the log pose strapped to her wrist. Her hair had mostly dried, wind-fluffed and curling slightly at the ends. A gentle smile played on her lips—subtle, but real.
Varin was at the portside railing. Standing. Still. Watching the horizon.
His arms were crossed, the claws retracted, his coat hanging heavy but no longer soaked. Salt crusted his shoulders in small crystalline patches. His gaze had the edge of a hawk's, always scanning—always measuring—but there was less tension in his posture now, like a spring finally uncoiling.
Nami's voice broke the quiet first.
"We should see Reverse Mountain in a few hours."
Varin turned slightly, brow lifting. "You sure?"
She nodded without looking away from the compass. "Storm pushed us off course a bit, but not far. The log is steady again. We'll hit the current just after noon."
Luffy whooped from the figurehead. "Yessss! Grand Line, here we come!"
Usopp jerked awake, blinking furiously. "Wh—Grand Line? Already?! Wait, we're not dying?!"
"You don't have to sound so surprised," Sanji muttered, tossing an orange peel overboard.
Zoro, eyes still closed, yawned. "We'll probably die on the mountain instead."
"That's the spirit," Varin said, his tone dry.
Sanji glanced toward him. "You ever been near the Grand Line?"
Varin's lips pulled into a wry line, his voice low. "Right. I never told you. Only Nami knows."
He leaned against the railing, eyes fixed on the horizon—but not seeing it. "I didn't come from the Blues. I was born in the Grand Line."
That froze the conversation. Sanji's cigarette paused halfway to his lips. Usopp sat straighter. Even Zoro shifted from where he sat cross-legged, one eye narrowing slightly. Luffy, of course, was already grinning—like someone had just offered him a story with a monster at the end.
"You're messing with us," Usopp said, half-laughing, but not quite sure of it.
Varin barked out a short, rough laugh—unexpected, sharp as gravel and just a little too loud for the quiet sea air. Not mocking, but startling in its sudden warmth.
"Messing with you? Sure. That sounds like me." He shook his head, silver eyes glinting under the cloud-scattered sky. "But not this time."
He pushed off the railing and turned, walking a slow circle around the deck as if the memories had gravity, drawing him into motion.
"It's real. Every frozen inch of it. My whole world used to be ice fields and cliff shores that could shear your foot off if you slipped wrong. Nights so long, even the stars felt like strangers."
He smirked faintly, almost fond—like he could still taste the frost on the back of his teeth. "Our idea of a warm day was when your breath didn't turn to snow the second it left your mouth."
Sanji snorted. "Sounds like paradise."
"It had its charm," Varin said, and for a moment, the others weren't sure if he was joking or not. "We lived off the sea and what game we could run down in the snow. Ice wolves, mostly. Big things. Fast. Some of 'em smart enough to circle back and ambush your trail. But the pelts were worth it."
Zoro raised an eyebrow. "Ice wolves?"
Luffy leaned forward on the railing, grinning ear to ear. "Did you fight one?"
Varin looked at him like the question barely warranted an answer. "Fought 'em. Hunted 'em. Was nearly dragged off by one when I was nine. We used spears and oil-lamps to track 'em by scent and shadow."
He paused, then gave a loose shrug. "First one I brought down on my own, they made me skin it in front of everyone. Said if I couldn't handle that, I hadn't earned the kill. Took half the night. My hands went numb, but I got it done."
Usopp's eyes had gone wide. "You were nine? I couldn't even make a fire at nine!"
"You still can't," Sanji muttered around his cigarette.
"Can too—!"
Varin chuckled again, this time softer. Not quite a laugh, but the kind of sound someone makes when remembering a time that hurt—but taught them something. "It was survival. Everyone learned early. We had no choice."
His gaze drifted back to the horizon. The sea was calmer now, the clouds beginning to thin—sunlight breaking through in faint gold streaks across the waves.
"But it wasn't all bad," he admitted. "Sometimes, when the storms cleared, the whole island would shine. Ice caves lighting up with colors from the auroras, and the sky so clear you could see every star. And the fish—we had these deep-sea breeds that glowed when you caught them. Blue and green like fire. My little sister loved those."
He stopped short, blinking once, then turned away before anyone could ask.
Nami, watching from the helm, didn't speak. Neither did Sanji. Even Luffy's grin had settled into something quieter.
"Damn," Zoro muttered finally. "You make East Blue sound like a resort."
Varin gave him a sideways glance and smirked. "The blues are downright peaceful compared to the grandline."
"You think this storm was rough? That was a greeting." His voice was dry, not quite amused but touched with something else—anticipation, maybe. The kind that coiled low in the gut like a spark waiting for powder.
He tilted his head back, exhaling through his nose, almost as if remembering something that made his bones itch. "The Grand Line doesn't care about maps or plans or what you think should happen. The wind changes wrong, the sea buckles under you, and the sky'll spin like it's trying to pull your teeth out one by one. Every mile is earned."
He let the weight of that hang for a moment. Then—strangely—his smirk deepened, turning almost boyish.
"…Honestly?" he added, voice dipping into something closer to fondness. "I can't wait to see Nami's reaction."
Sanji turned from where he was propped against the mast, eyes narrowing. "Why?"
"Because," Varin said, chuckling low in his chest, "she's the best damn navigator I've ever seen. No question. Smart. Sharp. Precise. She reads the wind like it's talking to her."
He looked back out to sea, expression growing more amused by the second. "And the Grand Line is gonna try everything to break that certainty. Every instinct she has is going to be thrown into question. Currents that double back on themselves. Winds that scream one way and pull another. Magnetic fields that lie like thieves."
Sanji bristled slightly. "So you want to see her fail?"
"No." Varin turned to him, expression serious now. "I want to see her beat it. I want to see her eyes when she realizes it's all real—the madness, the danger, the impossible. That it isn't like the Blues. And that she can still master it."
He paused, his tone dropping back into that dry, quiet edge. "It's like watching a swordsman draw on someone with a real blade for the first time. No dull edge. No safety. Just steel and instinct."
Usopp looked a little pale. "That's not… comforting."
Varin shrugged. "Wasn't meant to be. But if you're going to sail the Grand Line, you might as well know what you're stepping into."
Luffy, of course, was grinning. "I knew it was gonna be awesome!"
Varin met his gaze and nodded once. "You've got no idea."
The wind picked up again, brushing past them in long, low gusts. The Red Line loomed closer—dark cliffs stretching to the heavens like the spine of some dead god. The sea, for now, was calm. But the weight of what lay ahead—of the wild world beyond the mountain—hung in the air like static before lightning.
They were nearly there. The threshold of madness.
And Varin, born of that chaos, could already feel his blood beginning to sing.
Varin's gaze lingered on the Red Line as the others fell quiet, the monstrous cliff wall now rising high above the ocean like it was trying to cleave the sky in two. He watched it—not with awe, but with a grim kind of recognition. A man seeing a road he'd walked before. A path he hadn't missed.
He spoke without turning around.
"…We need to get stronger."
The words weren't loud. They didn't need to be. They dropped like stones into the stillness, and every Straw Hat felt the ripple of them.
Sanji arched a brow, pushing off the mast. "You mean physically? We're not exactly weak, y'know."
Zoro scoffed from where he sat, sharpening Wado Ichimonji. "Speak for yourself. Some of us are already strong."
Varin gave a low snort but didn't rise to the bait. His tone was level—almost too even. "You're all good. You've got heart. Fire. You made it through a Blue storm, dodged Marines, handled crooked towns and petty thugs."
He finally turned around, leaning an elbow on the rail as he faced them. "But you've barely made the minimum bar for entering the Grand Line."
Usopp sat up straighter. "The minimum? That was a hurricane!"
Varin's gaze met his, flat and unyielding. "And it was just the wind."
The silence that followed was heavier this time.
"You don't know what's waiting," Varin continued, quieter now. "Sea Kings the size of castles. Islands that break every rule you've ever learned. Weather that drops from the sky in sheets of ice and fire. Pirates who kill crews for sport. And worse things—things that don't even bother with names."
He looked at Luffy now—truly looked at him. "I've seen what's out there. And if you don't grow fast… you'll die fast."
Luffy didn't grin this time. He didn't crack a joke or shout about becoming King of the Pirates.
He just nodded.
Zoro stood, sliding his sword back into its sheath with a soft click. "Then we get stronger."
Sanji sighed through his teeth. "I've been saying we need more muscle in the kitchen."
Usopp visibly gulped. "D-Does strength include… uh… bravery? Asking for a friend."
Varin gave a rare, sharp smile. "Bravery counts. But only if it keeps your hands steady when the blood starts flying."
Usopp gave a weak chuckle. "Oh. Great. Steady blood hands. No problem."
Nami came up from below deck, toweling off her hair. "What's this, a pep talk?"
"No," Varin said, eyes narrowing slightly as Reverse Mountain loomed closer—its gaping maw of the canal like a wound in the rock, churning with foam and dark water.
"This is the warning."
Varin straightened, one hand gripping the rail. "Once we cross this line, we don't go back. The Grand Line doesn't let go. You either rise to meet it…"
He looked around at them all—each of them bright-eyed, battle-worn, and still carrying the innocence of a world they hadn't yet seen stripped bare.
"…Or you get swallowed whole."
Luffy's fists clenched.
Zoro reached for his bandana.
Sanji flicked ash from the edge of his cigarette.
Usopp swallowed again and muttered, "No one said anything about swallowing."
And Nami?
She stepped to the helm, eyes narrowed, hands gripping the wheel with a fire in her gaze that matched the sea itself.
"Then let's not give it the chance."
She let go of the wheel after steadying it and quickly walked to Varin, map in hand.
Varin leaned forward. Nami's thumb hovered over the base of Reverse Mountain on the chart. Her voice, usually sharp, carried something like disbelief.
"We'll be riding up a mountain," she said quietly. "You realize this, right? We aren't sailing through anything. We're going up. Against the current."
He glanced at the map, then back at her. All around, the deck was quiet—nerves taut, sails slack.
Nami's eyes flicked from the map to the sea ahead, where the twisted wall of Reverse Mountain began to take shape through thinning clouds. "Five rivers converge at the base—four climbing currents from each of the Blues, and one descending into the Grand Line." Her voice was steadier than the wind. "We'll have to ride against them."
Luffy, who'd been happily daydreaming near the figurehead, swung around with a sudden grin. "Sounds like fun!"
Sanji and Zoro exchanged raised eyebrows.
"Fun," Zoro echoed dryly. "Coming from someone who can't even swim."
Nami slipped the map into a waterproof case and locked eyes with each of them. "If we don't angle just right—if the log pose shifts, if the tide catches us too wide—we'll smash into the rock face before we get anywhere."
Varin's posture straightened. The wind had softened, but his sense of purpose sharpened.
"It's a waterfall in reverse," he said softly, "where ships climb instead of fall. You'd think it'd wash us off the world."
Zoro sheathed a sword and rested a hand on the rail. "And if we miss the angle?"
"We ride it back down," Varin said, tone flat, almost smiling.
Sanji smirked, shaking his head. "Only this crew would treat a mountain like it's just another wave."
Luffy nodded, voice strong: "Grand Line, here we come!"
They stood there together—navigator, swordsman, cook, sharpshooter, rubber man, and the silent Fenrir—all of them looking ahead to a mountain that defied logic.
Reverse Mountain.
The climb had begun.
They stood there together—navigator, swordsman, cook, sharpshooter, rubber man, and the silent Fenrir—all of them staring up at the wall of water and sky that carved the horizon in two.
Reverse Mountain.
The sea roared, tearing past them in defiance of nature, dragging the Going Merry upward on a violent surge that felt more like being launched than sailing. The current gripped the ship like a fist and yanked it forward, straining every plank and rope. The bow lifted. The deck rattled. The climb had begun.
Spray struck them like needles. Nami held the helm with a snarl in her teeth, fighting the wheel as it spun and jerked like it had a will of its own. Her compass danced madly.
"Hold on!" she shouted. "Once we hit the summit, we have one second of calm before the drop! That's our only window!"
Zoro had one hand on the rigging, feet locked against the rocking deck. "Tch. A mountain of water. This is the dumbest thing we've done so far."
"That's not true!" Usopp screamed, clinging to a barrel. "We've done way dumber things—this is just the most suicidal!"
Sanji staggered, squinting through the mist, trying to light a cigarette. "Someone shut him up before he curses the boat into breaking apart."
Luffy stood near the front, arms flapping in the wind like sails of his own. "This is so cool!"
And beside him, barely swaying with the motion of the ship, stood Varin.
The wind tore at his coat and frost-stitched collar, but the man didn't so much as blink. His pale silver eyes were fixed ahead, not on the mountain or the current, but beyond it. On memory. The rushing of water mimicked the roar of something older—ice collapsing beneath his boots, blizzards swallowing cities, wolves that didn't howl but whispered.
His body tensed as the Merry's prow broke past the mist line.
Then, with a suddenness that stole the breath from every lung on board, the world dropped out from under them.
They reached the summit—and then the fall came.
The ship became weightless.
For a heartbeat, they hung suspended above the Grand Line—held in the grip of forces far older and stronger than human law. And then gravity took them.
The Going Merry plunged down the far side of Reverse Mountain. Wind howled around them like a laughing god. Salt and spray blurred vision. Nami barked orders that no one could hear.
The Going Merry plunged down the far side of Reverse Mountain. Wind howled around them like a laughing god. Salt and spray blurred vision. Nami barked orders that no one could hear.
Then—over the chaos—came a new voice. Deep. Cutting. Like a glacier calving into the sea.
"We're going to hit something!"
Varin's voice boomed over the wind, sharper than it had any right to be—his throat strained from disuse, yet the warning came clear as ice.
"Towards the bow! There's something below us!"
He pointed with one hand, the gesture rigid and sharp like a spear-thrust.
Through the veil of storm spray and plunging mist, they saw it:
A vast black mass sprawled across the surface of the sea at the base of the mountain.
At first, it looked like a rock. Maybe a shadowed reef.
Then it moved.
A ripple passed along the thing's surface. A fin, if it could be called that, barely broke the water—and then something blinked.
An eye.
Usopp screamed.
"Wh-what is that!? Is it a sea king!? It's a sea king, isn't it!?""
The ship bucked hard. Nami hauled the wheel starboard with every ounce of strength in her arms. The rudder bit into the drop current—but there was only so much she could do with no sails and no control.
The deck groaned beneath the stress—every timber flexing as the Going Merry rocketed down the mountain like a divine projectile. The wind wasn't wind anymore—it was pressure, a wall of screaming force that shoved against every breath, flattened every shout.
"We're going too fast—!" Nami hissed through gritted teeth, squinting at the blur of sea and sky around them.
"Then jump it!" Luffy bellowed with manic joy, his arms already stretched out, gripping the mast to hold tension against the wild spin.
Varin moved.
He was already at the portside winch, his hands a blur as he released just enough of the rear sail to catch the sidewinds. The bow angled slightly—just enough to keep them from a headlong plunge. But not enough to steer.
"Rudder!" he barked, voice like stone cracking through the gale. "Get on the damn rudder now!"
Zoro, Sanji, and Usopp slammed into the stern rail together, grabbing the tiller. Zoro's shoulders heaved as he threw his full weight into it. Sanji planted his heels and shoved with both boots. Usopp hung on and pulled with a face like he was trying to move a mountain.
Nothing.
The rudder refused to budge, swallowed by the current's wrath like a fishhook caught in Leviathan's teeth. The ship continued its death-sprint toward the black shape ahead.
"It's still there !" Usopp screamed.
"I know!" Zoro spat, still wrestling with the helm. "It's a rock! Or a sea king! Or our grave!"
"Hold—!" Varin shouted again, boots sliding, on the wet wood of the deck. But someone beat him to it.
A thump cracked beneath the deck. The forward-mounted cannon—hidden under Merry's lip—roared.
Smoke burst from the bow. The shot screamed forward, struck the mass dead center with a puff of steam and dull, meaty thud.
Nothing happened.
The whale didn't budge.
But the air shifted.
The pressure shivered.
The blowback from the cannon's own recoil created just enough drag. The Merry groaned as her nose dipped. The front keel carved a deep line in the water just ahead of the whale's massive brow—so close that Varin could've reached out and touched the flesh had he leaned one inch farther.
CRACK—
The figurehead snapped.
The little lamb at the front, Merry's cherubic smile, split at the neck and flew through the air, landing on the deck with another crack.
But that was it.
The ship stopped. Not gently. Not safely. But it stopped.
The Going Merry bobbed just feet from the whale's head, trembling in the water like a deer touching down from a lightning bolt.
Everyone froze.
Even the sea seemed to pause.
Steam curled from the cannon port. Water slapped softly against hull and whale.
Luffy stood grinning like a lunatic, hands on his hips.
"I slowed it down," he said brightly. "Cool, right?"
Usopp collapsed backwards, breathing hard. "We're alive. We're actually alive. We didn't die. Again."
Sanji lit his cigarette finally, though his fingers shook. "If that thing sneezes, we'll still die."
Nami was at the helm, pale, but steady. "What the hell is that thing?"